Vipers Ascendant
by Goblin Cat KC
Summary: The war is over. The Death Eaters have won. At the end of the final battle, Harry Potter lies helpless at Draco Malfoy's feet. eventual HPxDM. disturbing imagery
1. Chapter 1

**Vipers Ascendant**

by KC

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.

**Other info**: Post-HBP, darkfic.

No longer the frightened child facing Dumbledore on a cold tower, Draco Malfoy stood as a proven soldier and accomplished Death Eater, side by side with the two wizards Voldemort esteemed as his most valuable servants, Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. Together they stood outside the blackened shell of Madame Malkin's store and watched their comrades in arms torment the helpless wizard at their feet. Wandless, stripped and humiliated, the once proud Harry Potter writhed in mute agony in the street.

War left its mark on everything and everyone, but in the two school rivals it had worked its most resounding changes. Draco, allowed to live after failing to kill Dumbledore both because he was not of age yet, too young to be expected to best the headmaster's influence, and because he'd found the means to sneak Death Eaters into Hogwarts when no one else had, quickly redeemed himself in the eyes of his master. As a lookout while Bellatrix and Fenrir slaughtered a Ministry official and his family, Draco had been caught up in the fight when several Aurors stumbled upon them. It was then, standing over his first kill, that he realized something no one had ever told him.

Killing was easy. And taking life in a fight was even easier.

That he volunteered for the team that would free their fellow Death Eaters from Azkaban surprised everyone except Fenrir and Bellatrix. That he proved a lethal and cunning fighter surprised everyone, especially his father. As Lucius watched Draco pant from exertion in robes torn and singed from the near misses of Auror spells, he hadn't recognized his son at first. The spoiled child became the confident killer who now stood beside him, a true dark wizard, watching Potter open his mouth in a silent scream.

Draco glanced sideways at the herd of prisoners locked in chains on the other end of the street. Most of the resistance were now rounded up, although he spotted a few stragglers being dragged from their various hiding places and thrown amongst the rest of the mudbloods and blood traitors. Granger's hair made her stand out amongst the rest, still bushy despite how tangled and matted with dirt it was, but he spotted several redheaded Weasley children among the captured as well as several more students who he doubted were of age yet. Of the adults who'd fought the dark lord, few were still alive.

He felt his master's presence and stood at attention, taking a deep breath as a hush fell over the street. Even the few prisoners still struggling against their captors paused as Lord Voldemort made his appearance, his robes leaving a bloody trail behind him. Bellatrix walked just behind his right shoulder, her mask in her left hand. They no longer had to hide their faces now that they controlled the wizarding population of England.

Seeing his lord approach, Fenrir put a hand on one of the younger Death Eaters torturing Harry, ending his crucio spell. The others noticed and also ended their spells, leaving the young wizard gasping for breath as he lay limp on the ground. Fenrir stepped in close and put his foot down on his back, holding him still, and then bowed with everyone else when Voldemort stopped.

"My loyal followers," the dark lord said, his sharp voice reaching throughout the street. "We have won a great victory today. No longer will we be forced to live in the shadows under the muggle world's notice. Today we have won the Ministry. Celebrate our victory, for soon we shall lay waste to the rest of this country, and after that, the world."

He paused to let the depths of their defeat sink into his prisoners. None of the Death Eaters cheered. They knew better than to interrupt their lord. The crowd parted before him as he approached Harry, smiling down at his broken enemy.

"So this is the prophesied savior," he said, ignoring the low laughs of his followers. "You should have joined me when I offered you the chance, boy."

"Go to hell," Harry spat out between clenched teeth, groaning as Fenrir ground his heel into his back.

"Easy, Fenrir," Voldemort said. "Don't kill him."

"Master?" Fenrir tilted his head like a curious dog.

"That scar makes him most important to me," Voldemort said, offering no further explanation.

Draco heard Lucius breathe in sharply, their suspicions confirmed. The scar had to contain a bit of the dark lord's soul. He kept his face aloof. They couldn't afford arousing their master's suspicions, not yet.

"However," Voldemort continued. "I don't have time to waste on a failed hero. I require a trustworthy warden for my most valued prisoner."

Silence. If there was one thing a Death Eater learned early on, it was to never volunteer for anything, especially important missions where a minor mistake could cost their life. With a small smile, Draco stepped forward, his boots softly tapping on the pavement as he knelt before Voldemort.

"The Malfoy family is ever at your service," he said, keeping his gaze on his master's shoes.

"Still...a rotten snake--" Harry snarled, his hands flexing uselessly. If Fenrir had stepped off, he still wouldn't have been able to do anything.

Voldemort smiled. "Draco Malfoy. You have certainly redeemed yourself many times over since your first failure. This is a great matter I trust you with. Potter is yours. Do not kill him."

"As you wish, master." Draco stood again, his gaze flicking over Voldemort's face before he lowered his eyes again. "What of the other prisoners?"

"Bella had some wonderful ideas for them," Voldemort said. "But that can wait. I assume you will take your prisoner to your new estate."

Draco nodded once. Malfoy Manor had been damaged in the fighting with one of its wings gutted by fire. He'd chosen the Diggory estate as his new home after he'd sent its previous occupants to meet their son.

Turning his attention to more important matters now, Voldemort left Draco and moved back into the crowd to issue new orders. Draco glanced once at his father and nodded. His father nodded back and joined Snape in following the master. In a moment, he was left alone with Harry.

"Ah, how the mighty have fallen," he whispered.

"You haven't won," Harry growled, slowly regaining his strength. He pushed himself up on his bloodied and scratched hands. "The fight's not over, you won't--"

Refusing to dirty himself by touching him, Draco flicked his wand and slammed Harry back into the ground. He then nudged Harry's head to one side, forcing him to watch the Death Eaters surrounding the his friends, cherry-picking slaves and dragging crying, screaming young witches out of sight.

"You failed them," he said softly. "You failed all of them. There will be no last minute rescue, Potter."

"No..."

"Really, must you be so dramatic?" Draco conjured ropes to bind Harry's wrists behind his back, then summoned the thestral that he rode, preferring to ride rather than apparate after a few close calls when aurors had ambushed him. With another flick of his wand, he levitated Harry up over the thestral's back and over the saddle, then jumped up after him and took the reins in one hand.

"Don't fidget," he warned him as he urged the thestral up into the sky. "I'd hate to drop you from this height."

He set his free hand on Harry's wrists to keep him from falling as they flew through clouds and light winter drizzles. The cool and quiet flight was welcome relief from the heat of the final battle, and he smiled when he felt his prisoner shivering. By the time they reached his new home, he doubted there would be any fight left in the Gryffindor.

All in all, it was turning out to be a very nice day.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

The thestral landed in the courtyard behind Draco's estate, its hooves clopping sharply on the cobblestone walkway. Draco shoved Harry off onto the ground where he landed with a grunt, then gracefully dismounted and sent the thestral off to its stable. After taking a moment to make sure all of his wards and traps were undisturbed, Draco turned his attention back to his prisoner.

"I see starvation and torture haven't marred your body," he said, inspecting every inch of him. He nudged Harry with his boot for a better look. A few scars crisscrossed Harry's skin, but they only accentuated his looks. "You look as fit as ever. I daresay that with a little rest and a decent meal, you might actually be able to fight again."

Draco knelt beside him, running his gloved hand over Harry's stomach. He smiled as the muscles rippled under his touch.

"And you're still a sick pervert who gets off on other people's pain," Harry spat. He squirmed around until he lay on his side, then maneuvered himself onto his knees. The effort left him too spent to sit up, but at least Draco wasn't touch him anymore.

"True," Draco said, not insulted at all. "I'm looking forward to keeping you for my lord. You should provide plenty of amusement."

Not allowing Harry time to reply, he fisted his fingers in Harry's hair, then slowly forced him to stand. Bent at an angle, Harry tottered beside him into the large house. Thick white carpeting greeted his bare feet as they went through a library with a fireplace out into the hall. Beautiful mahogany furniture, china cabinets and porcelain vases filled the house, but the fine decorations made his torment feel worse than any dungeon might. Dungeons and dark places were familiar. Draco's house, despite being stolen from the dead, felt grotesquely intimate, as if he had been drawn into Draco's own little world. Thick curtains covered the windows so no sunlight broke the gloom. The shadows made the house feel smaller, like an extension of the young Death Eater that slowly wrapped around him.

"You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with the house," Draco said conversationally, as if Harry was not naked and recovering from torture. "But I need to make sure you can't escape before we do anything else."

More crucio curses, Harry guessed, and he hid his shiver. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him react. He didn't know how many crucio spells had been cast on him. Enough to make him tense in expectation before he even saw a wand.

Draco took him up an elegant stairway with banisters polished to a near mirror reflection. The second floor was as palatial as the first, and the bedroom they entered looked like a master suite. If he hadn't expected pain in the next few seconds, Harry would've taken a little time to appreciate the soft bed that Draco threw him on. Towards the end of the war, beds he could afford to sleep in had become a rarity as houses crumbled, allies grew fewer and fewer, and Voldemort's reach extended across the country.

"We can do away with those ropes now," Draco said with a wave of his wand.

The ropes vanished from around Harry's wrists, but before he could try to take advantage of it, he heard the rattle of chains. Much like the chair in the Wizengamot, this bed had been spelled to restrain anyone unfortunate to rest on top. The heavy iron snapped shut around his wrists and ankles and drew him taut across the mattress. The metal edges bit deep into his ankles and wrists.

"Can't keep anyone in bed without chains?" Harry said, forcing a laugh through grit teeth.

Draco didn't respond. He tugged on each chain to make sure there was no slack in them, then leaned over Harry's right arm. His intent focus worried Harry more than anything else. Draco was a seasoned death eater. Casting simple Unforgivables wouldn't take this kind of concentration.

"Don't speak," Draco whispered. "If you distract me, this could become excruciatingly painful...and irreversible, I might add."

Harry frowned. Draco's hand, icy and bone-thin, closed over his wrist and he lay the tip of his wand a little above Harry's elbow. He whispered something Harry couldn't hear, then drew his wand in a straight line across Harry's skin.

At first Harry didn't know what had happened. There was no pain, no discomfort. Only when he realized there was no feeling at all did he understand what had happened. His arm was free, and he raised it slowly, already knowing what he would see. Or rather, what he wouldn't see.

His arm ended an inch below the elbow in a smooth, rounded stump. Still locked beside his head lay his hand and his forearm, neatly severed from his body.

Draco removed his right leg at the knee before Harry recovered from his shock enough to breathe again. By the time he could speak, Draco stood over his left arm, his only remaining limb.

"Malfoy, no..."

Draco met his look. For once, there was no laughter in his eyes, no arrogance in his voice.

"It's the only way to make sure you can't fight or escape," Draco said softly. "If you get loose, the dark lord will kill me and give you to someone like Fenrir."

"Then kill me or lock me up or...or..." Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Not like this."

"This is why you're here," Draco said. "I have to keep you safe. By any means necessary. It's the only way wars are won."

"It didn't have to be like this," Harry said, watching Draco lay his wand across his arm. "Malfoy, no, please no--!"

His voice dwindled as he watched Draco gather up his arms and legs and take them to the closet, kneeling in front of a chest on the floor. He carefully arranged them inside on the red velvet lining, storing them neatly on top of each other, then closed it with a heavy thump, and Harry knew he wouldn't see himself again for a long time. Draco used his wand to lock the chest, then put it on the highest shelf of the closet and closed the door, locking that as well.

"It's just a controlled splinch," Draco explained, facing the closet instead of Harry as he spoke. "I can put them back on any time. They won't die or anything like that."

Harry didn't respond. Draco looked over his shoulder and found him staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. The Boy Who Lived looked so much different, he thought, and would have looked different even if his body was whole. Draco had expected anger or fear, perhaps even indignation. This blank slate left a cold sickness in his stomach.

As Draco turned, the soft scuff of his foot on the carpet made Harry flinch. Draco froze. Although he'd seen people without limbs before, the sight of Harry's crippled body moving unnerved him. It made no sense, but seeing his rival like this frightened him more than the few times he'd come close to death in battle. Harry looked like a broken doll, something that resembled a human but missed the mark by a hair, and thus became all the more inhuman. He had the strange fear that Harry's truncated body might suddenly spring up at him.

Draco forced himself to walk back towards him, but he froze again as Harry turned his head to look at him. Draco swallowed once. Flat, emotionless eyes.

"Can't stand your own handiwork?" Harry asked in a low voice. "Still a coward?"

How could Harry think to speak? Why wasn't he in shock? Draco frowned. Unless this was how Harry reacted to suffering, he thought, to block out his hurt until there was nothing left. Nothing of himself, and nothing of his fear. Harry potentially grew stronger the more he was hurt. Draco filed that information away for later.

"I used to be," Draco replied. He edged closer to the bed. "I was so afraid I couldn't move sometimes. Not like you. Killed a basilisk, fought off dementors and Death Eaters, stopped the dark lord even..."

If he focused on Harry's eyes, he could forget how he'd mutilated the other's body. He noticed that some stray hair had fallen across Harry's face, and almost absently he realized that the other boy couldn't sweep it away himself. It had grown ragged since he'd last seen Harry. Draco wondered if it bothered him or if he always ignored it.

"You were the hero of the story," he whispered. "Now look at how the story's ended."

"Not ended," Harry said. "I'm still alive. I don't care what you do to me, I'm still alive. I'll still win. I'll still--"

Draco brushed Harry's hair out of his eyes with his fingertips. The simple motion cut off Harry's voice as if it had been splinched away as well, and his eyes grew wide for a moment. Draco recognized the look. Reality was setting in.

The blankets were folded at the end of the bed. Draco unfurled one and set it over Harry, pulling it to his shoulders as the other boy's breaths came faster and faster. He smiled in relief. Covered like this, he couldn't see that Harry was helpless.

"Coward," Harry whispered, refusing to look at him. He whispered insults over and over as if they were a shield. "Liar. Little snake."

"A little snake that found its fangs," Draco whispered back. He smoothed Harry's wild hair again, then stood straight, speaking to himself since he didn't think Harry was listening. "I'll let you rest now. Later on I'll help you off the bed so you get used to moving around like this. Once you get used to crawling, I think it'll be safe to give you run of the house. Not like you could open any doors."

Harry didn't reply. Draco watched him for a few more moments to make sure he wouldn't hyperventilate, then headed for the door.

"Malfoy."

Surprised, Draco paused and half-turned at the door. Harry didn't look any more composed, but the frightened eyes focused steadily on him.

"Why?" Harry asked. "You could've just locked me in chains. There's no one to save me now. You didn't have to--"

"Yes, I did," Draco said. "I have to keep you safe. You're very important to us."

"Malfoy--"

"Plans within plans, Harry," Draco said over him. "Maybe you're right. Your story might have a few more chapters yet. But you won't be the one writing them."

TBC...


End file.
